One, Two, Three.  One, Two, Three.
by Ekat
Summary: "Never give a sword to a man who can't dance."


One, Two, Three. One Two Three.  
  
Author: Ekat  
  
Rating: G  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. I just play with them from time to time.  
  
Characters: R, DM, A  
  
Archive: with permission  
  
Feedback: yes please. I crave it.  
  
Summary: "Never give a sword to a man who can't dance."  
  
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The wind assaulted his body as he sped through the streets of Seacouver. The only time he ever felt truly free and alive was when he was straddling 408 pounds of metal, with the power of 104 horses, going so fast that the landscape passed by in a blur of colors.  
  
Richie Ryan had always loved to ride. But ever since his Immortality was awakened, seven months prior, the love had intensified. Maybe it was because now he knew that no matter how hard the crash, he would walk away from it. Maybe it was because it was the one thing that had remained constant in his life. Maybe it was because he knew it irked Mac that he continued to ride and take chances. Maybe he didn't care.   
  
It was just him, the bike, and the open road. He brought the motorcycle to a screeching halt as the traffic light turned red. Okay, maybe the not-so-open road. As he waited for the light to change he glanced at his watch. 10:35 a.m.   
  
"Oh man, I'm already five minutes late. Mac's gonna have my head," he said to himself. He revved the engine to his bike so that he shot off like a bullet the minute the light turned green. "Now, Richie," he said taking on the tone and inflection that Mac used when he lectured him, "you're an adult now. You need to start acting like one. Just because you're Immortal now, it doesn't mean you can go back to your foolish and self-destructive ways. If anything, being an Immortal means you have to be even more careful." Richie recited the speech that Mac had given him a hundred times over the past seven months. He sighed, knowing that the dressing down was inevitable as death and taxes. Okay, maybe not death.  
  
He pulled into his parking spot by the dojo. Mac's t-bird was there in its usual spot, all black and chrome and gleaming in the sun. Richie lusted after that car. Maybe because it was a classic. Maybe it was because it had the kind of power that even the most powerful bike could not offer. Maybe it was because Mac wouldn't let him drive it.   
  
Richie swung his leg over the bike so that he could stand next to it. He removed his gloves and helmet before grabbing the saddlebags, complete with sword, and heading up the stairs to the dojo. As he reached for the handle of the outer door, he heard the pounding.  
  
"Oh man, he's even more upset that I expected." He looked down at his watch. "I'm only ten minutes late and he's in there stomping around like a madman." Steeling himself for the workout of his life, Richie opened the door. Immediately his ears were assaulted by the sound of music. Spanish guitar to be exact.   
  
He felt his face contort into [an expression] of confusion. He allowed his curiosity to lead him and walked into the building. The door hadn't even closed behind him when the itchy feeling of another Immortal's presence ran up the back of his skull. He leaned forward slightly to look through the windows that separated the actual dojo from the hallway. He felt his jaw drop.  
  
There in the middle of practice area was Mac. He was dressed in a red dress shirt with ruffles down the front and at the cuffs, skin-tight black slacks that flared at the hem and black boots. He was stomping in a very choreographed pattern, one arm raised above his head, the other bent across his abdomen. His eyes held a concentration that Richie had never seen in them before.  
  
Leaning against a rack of free weights was Amanda. Richie was pleased to see her. Unlike a certain Scotsman, she never treated him like a child. The only time Richie liked his full given name was when she said it. She made the name sound almost exotic. She was dressed in all black, from the body-hugging T-shirt, to the painted on leather pants, to the tips of her high-heeled boots. She was watching Mac as he danced to the rhythm of the music, an amused smirk playing across her bright red lips.  
  
Mac came to a stop, posed and motionless as the music concluded. Richie was surprised to see that he wasn't even breathing hard. Amanda shook her head.   
  
"I'm not sure, Duncan. Don't you think the Passo Doblé is a bit advanced for a beginner? How many hours of study did it take you before you could do it? Do you honestly think you have the patience to teach him it?" she asked.  
  
Duncan lowered his arm as his face fell in disappointment. "But it's the footwork I want to focus on."  
  
Amanda stood up and sauntered over to where Duncan stood. "I realize that, but there are others that emphasize footwork." At that moment the next song on the CD started. Duncan reached out and pulled her to him.  
  
"Like this one?" he asked as he began to lead her in the Tango. Richie realized that this was a good a time as any to finish making his appearance and stepped all the way in and leaned on the door jam. He watched them dance, envying the graceful way that the two of the moved together. He could move stealthily, but never with what anyone could call grace.  
  
As the song stopped, Duncan dropped Amanda into a deep dip. Richie cleared his throat. Both look at him, still in the pose. "Hiya Rich," Duncan said, standing back up, helping Amanda regain her balance.  
  
"If I'm interrupting something, I can come back later," he said walking further into the dojo, saddlebag slung over his right shoulder. Duncan walked over to the stereo and stopped the CD as it started the next song.  
  
"Oh don't be silly, Richard," Amanda teasingly chastised him as she ran her fingers through her short black hair. "In fact, we were just discussing your training.  
  
A grin spread across his face. "Is that what you call it? Wow, in my old neighborhood we called it 'dancing'." He turned to Mac. "I thought you wanted to run some drills today."  
  
"I do. Give me your sword," his teacher said, holding his hand out. Richie removed the saddlebag from his shoulder, drew the sword and handed it, hilt first, to Duncan. Mac took the weapon and carried it into the office and set it on the desk before returning to his friends.  
  
Richie shook his head in confusion. "I don't understand. How are we going to run drills without a sword?'  
  
Duncan smiled at him. "I was recently reminded of an old Celtic proverb, 'never give a sword to a man who can't dance.' Until now we have focused on your ability to handle a blade. Today we are going to work on your footwork."  
  
"I can dance," Richie protested.  
  
"An epileptic seizure to that stuff you call 'music' is not dancing," Duncan objected.  
  
"Well if you think I'm gonna do all that...that... matador stomping around you'd better think again," the young Immortal said waving his hand to remind his teacher of his clothing.  
  
"If the focus of the lesson is footwork, I still say there are other dances that could work just as well," Amanda interjected before the men could get into an argument.  
  
Duncan looked over at her. "Such as?"  
  
"How about the Charleston?" she asked excitedly. Richie groaned.  
  
"The Charleston is just as inane as modern dancing," Duncan said shaking his head. "What about the Jitterbug or the Lindy-Hop?"   
  
"Too complicated. Might as well stick with the Passo Doblé. No, if you're determined to teach him to dance Duncan, you need to start out with something simple. What about the foxtrot?"  
  
A chagrined look crossed Duncan's face as he looked down at his feet and mumbled something.  
  
"What was that Mac?" Richie asked, grinning. He had been close enough to hear what the Highlander had said but he wanted to antagonize him.   
  
"Yes, Duncan, what was that?" Amanda asked.   
  
Shooting his student a warning glare, Mac sighed and raised his head. "I said that I never learned that one. It's all off beat and doesn't make any sense."  
  
Amanda let out an exasperated groan. "Well if you want simple, we could teach him the Electric Slide. Or better yet, the bunny-hop."  
  
"There's no need to take on that tone of voice," Duncan scolded her. "Those are dances that are too simple. I guess we will just have to go with the traditional waltz. Come on Rich, set your stuff down and lets get started." The Highlander walked back over to the stereo to switch the CD to one with the appropriate music.  
  
Shaking his head in confusion, Richie walked over to a bench and set down his saddlebags. He then removed his leather jacket and dropped it next to the bag. He turned back to his friends. "I seem to recall no one bothering to ask me if I wanted dance lessons. 'Cause I don't. If I wanted to learn these geeky dances, I would have joined Arthur Murray."  
  
"Well, too bad," Duncan said. "I'm not giving you back your sword until I'm confident that you can move. A sword fight, a good sword fight, is just as graceful as a waltz, just as energetic as a Jitterbug and just as languid as the Tango. There's a reason why the old Celts had the proverb. Shall we begin?"  
  
Richie sighed; resigned to the fact that this was one lesson he was not getting out of, and walked over to Duncan and Amanda. "Okay, now Amanda and I are going to do one round and then you can try," Duncan said, pushing play on the stereo and taking Amanda in his arms.  
  
The dojo filled with music and the two Immortals started gliding across the floor. As they danced Duncan commented on their steps. "It's all a simple three part rhythm, lead with your right foot." They completed several turns before coming back to where Richie stood. Duncan released Amanda and stopped the music. "Now, you try. First without music."  
  
Amanda held her arms out for him to step into. Hesitantly he placed his left hand in her raised right one. He then placed his right hand on her waist. She reached down with her free hand and raised the one on her waist so that it was resting on her shoulder blade instead. She then placed her left hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Relax, Richard. Waltzing is supposed to be romantic and lovely, not stiff and clumsy. I promise that I won't bite." He smiled at her.  
  
"Okay, shall we begin?" Duncan asked. He began clapping his hands together. "One, two, three. One, two, three." With the second round of clapping Richie stepped forward with his left foot and stepped on Amanda's foot. "Right foot Richie. Lead with your right foot."  
  
Richie sighed. "This is going to be a long day," he murmured to Amanda. She smiled reassuringly at him.  
  
"Again," Duncan called out. "One, two, three. One, two, three."  
  
  
~End~  
  



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